Midrift adrift or, Crop Top Caper
by Rye-bread
Summary: based on a fanart of ivymae457 over at DeviantArt what if a mischievious Ron were to succumb to a temptation he has hidden for many years?  One can only imagine.  Kim, Ron, et.al. belong to Disney.  Richard and Daphne Harte are inspired by the artwork of
1. Chapter 1

Rich noticed Ron's unhappy expression during the class bell; "Hey, bro; you look bummed out."

The student body looked on this new development strangely; as if Kim and Ron's dating wasn't the talk at Middleton High, the recent addition of Richard Harte and his sister Daphne to Team Possible certainly was.

"Hah! Two _more_ losers!" Bonnie Rockwaller had said; forget her, Ron thought; the the addition of the Harte twins gave Team Possible ten times the firepower.

And Ron Stoppable had found a friend--almost as close to him as K.P.; how strange it looked; a dorky art student, wire rim glasses, untameable cowlick on his head, and a born-again Christian at that--who liked to quote Shakespeare--was the best of friends with the former laughing stock of Middleton High, and Jewish at that.

They were closer than brothers; hence they called each other "Bro." Rich cared nothing for appearance; but the world didn't know Richard and Daphne Harte like Ron did; their fighting ability almost rivaled Kim's. Prim and bookish Daphne--they called her the "Librarian"--was as formidable a genius with computers and electronic hardware as Wade Load--which was apparently how they met, at some genius chatroom or convention, or something; she had converted an old Yugo into an ethanol-burning hell-on-wheels; it could rival Ron's rocket-powered scooter that Dr. Possible and his twin sons had souped up.

As for Richard Leo Harte: talk about not judging a book by its cover; he seemed to know it all: history, science, philosophy, martial arts; he had single-handedly defeated Drakken, Shego, and all the synthodrones and henchmen--and insisted that Kim and Ron take the credit; go figure. (But that is another story.)

"Bro--you look bummed." Rich was into outdated slang; much to Kim's annoyance, sometimes.

Ron shook his head: "That little Kimmunicator; some days I want to wreck it; I know that we're about missions and helping people, but Kim and I can hardly get any time alone."

Rich smiled: "It's your lucky day; bro--Daphne and I want to give you guys a night off."

"Uhh-what's the occasion?"

"Dude--a night with your girl--Wade not paging you guys every half hour; you mentioned it every day this week. Daphne and I will take call; just like the doctors, rocket scientists, and actuarys," he said, referring of course to the Drs. Possible and Mr. Stoppable. "--and even pastors," referring to his father. "It's already arranged."

"Bro--thanks--I owe you."

Kim was sceptical: "Ron, this is Team Possible's cred--yours and mine."

"K.P., we both know they were doing stuff as Team Harte long before we got together."

She sighed; and Ron saw in those gorgeous green eyes the same wish as his; some alone time, some breathing space. "Okay, you convinced me." Booyah, he thought.

"Well, where does milady wish her loyal servant to escort her to this evening?"

She giggled; "You sound like Rich;" and so he did. Rich made a big deal about being gallant. "But since you ask, I need to catch up on studying."

"I know just the place; a quiet little spot upstairs in the most boring house in Middleton."

"Let me guess: your house; your room." She crossed her arms; she was skeptical again.

"Well, you have to admit, my house, my room is boring--and the tweebs won't be around--and my folks always love having you over for supper."

"You convinced me;" she wound her arms around his waist. "Noble Sir, I am thy guest; and see to it that thee is on thy best behaivior--for most of the evening."

Bodacious booyah.

Riding on Ron's scooter was an exhilarating time for Kim, now. The rockets her family had added to outdistance the Little Diablos back on Prom Night now made it a serious thrill; and she could hardly tell whether her excitement was from the speed, or her arms around his waist; she hugged him harder--yes, it was definitely the latter. He popped a wheelie; she gasped, he laughed, and on they sped.

His parents fussed over her as much as her parents fussed over him. It _was_ a quieter house; his father's traditional Hawaiian shirt was the loudest thing there. Most of the time she wished the tweebs would disappear, but being here sometimes made her rethink that wish. The Stoppables had as much love as the Possibles, but somehow the noise seemed more like a family should be, more alive.

Supper was pleasant; Mr Stoppable was very curious about the new teammate, Rich. The two apparently had a most interesting and stimulating discussion when Rich was a guest; again, his breathtaking grasp of history and religion had impressed a parent, as his breathtaking grasp of medical science and rocketry had impressed her parents.

They went up to Ron's room after supper--to "hit the books", they promised. Abe Stoppable gave them a wink; "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

As they agreed, they studied. Ron gallantly offered Kim the use of the bed to lounge on. She stretched out on it, and Ron suddenly felt a--how should he put it--hormonal surge. As a rule Kim was the likelier of the two to start a display of affection; he had sworn before the Lord, the patriarchs, and the prophets to always uphold her honor, even from himself; he started to wonder about excusing himself to take a cold shower. But--another idea came.

Ron dared great deeds since the night of the Little Diablos. He had faced Erik Drake, his physical superior, in battle. He had faced Kim's stormy objections to allowing the Hartes to join Team Possible. He was about to do another great deed, something he would not have dared to do only a month before.

Kim had started wearing the midriff-baring crop top when her braces came off; Ron always had mixed feelings; she was suddenly Popular; he was 'way down food chain. He wanted to cover her bare waist up; he wanted not to obsess on it, he wanted to not impose his opinions on her--it was all so confusing.

There had been a germ of a thought one day; it could have been viewed as an innocent prank, or as the kind of a thing a disordered mind might do--the kind of thing that might end a friendship--so he suppressed the germ of a thought.

Tonight the germ of a thought returned; and in his newfound confidence as Kim's steady boyfriend, he thought: why not?

Zerbets on the belly; rasberries; whatever one called it; it would be a test; would she view it as fun, or break the book over his head?

It was a casual moment; each one was reading their respective book. Kim lay languidly on Ron's bed, and Ron sat on the edge; the only sound was the occasional page turning. If she could have seen the evil leer on his face, she would have become defensive, but shes suspected nothing; he looked for all the world like Grinch; so as not to rouse her suspicions, he tried not to grin. He set his book down; "Hey, K.P.

She looked up and smiled dreamily She was so alluring at times like this, he regretted wasting the opportunity; he could tell she was in a mood to cuddled. "C'mon, Stoppable, show me some love." God help me, he thought, I'm an idiot to pass up an intimate moment with Kim.

She lifted her arms to embrace him; he slowly leaned over her, and suddenly dove for her belly.

Downstairs, Abe Stoppable was reading the paper, and Rachel Stoppable was perusing a gardening magazine; with shocking suddenness they heard Kim screech at the top of her lungs: _"Ron!"_ Rachel jumped in her rocker. "Dear," she said breathlessly, "Should we check on them?"

"They'll be fine," he said with droll humor.

"Would our son--take advantage--of Kim?"

"Our son worships the ground she walks on; and she knows a dozen forms of kung-fu."

"Then--is Ron safe?"

Abe only lifted his eyes to heaven; what living, breathing teenage boy would want to be _safe_ from that fiery-haired filly?

Upstairs, Kim sat on the edge of the bed, covering her waist with both arms, her eyes wide as saucers, her mouth a round "o" of utter astonishment: "You--_perv!_ I don't _believe_ you did that!" Ron was curled up in a ball on the floor, helpless with laughter; hardly a sound came from his open mouth; tears rolled from his clenched eyelids.

"Oh, Stoppable, you're going to pay for that; you are _so_ dead!" With green eyes ablaze and a smirk on her lips, she descended on him; vengeance was hers. "Remember our agreement: when you get me, I get you back!"

She straddled him; slim but strong hands worked through his defense and tickled him in the ribs; he could hardly breath before, but he was wheezing with laughter now.

And the remarkable thing: he loved it; he had been afraid she would be angry; instead, she was just as willing to gleefully torment him as he had been to play around with her.

To be in K.P.'s hands; it was a greater extasy than even the kiss on prom night.

At last, gasping for breath, he managed to get a few words out: "Oh my God--K.P.--I give up--time out!" How beautiful she is, he thought; that rich red hair in wild disarray, those glimmering green eyes, that smile that shines like sunlight on the water.

What a goof he is; but what a sweetheart; my lifelong friend, my mission partner, and now my boyfriend, she thought. "Come on: give the winner her victory kiss;" and she leaned down.

"With pleasure; but--" and now _he_ smirked, "--officially, since I didn't _tickle_ you, I now get to get you back." Expertly, he shifted weight; she was unprepared, and he flipped her; he now had her pinned.

Abe and Rachel Stoppable now heard squeals and giggles erupt from the room upstairs. "Ataboy, son," Abe whispered mischieviously.

Rachel felt compelled to speak her mind again: "Abe, you know how I love Kim, but I still wish he could find a nice Jewish girl." Abe was devout a man as any in his congregation, but if Ron said to him, "Dad, Kim wants us to get married in a Seventh Day Adventist church", Abe would be the first to approve; here was a daughter-in-law--God willing--to be proud of.

A wrestling match was ensuing, and Kim was winning again. She suddenly looked up at the clock and was disconsolate; "Almost curfew," she said sadly. Well, the evening was gone; how sweet, but how short, it had been.

They sat up, sober expressions on their faces; he was about to do another brave and mighty deed; dare he say it? "I wish we could do this in fifty years, when we're old and grey."

She gazed at him shyly and whispered, "I want to do this in five years, when we won't have to _go_ home; we'll both already _be_ home." His eyes grew wider than hers had earlier; his heart raced into space, past the moon, past Pluto, and halfway to the next star. She stood up and offered him her hand; "Just something to think about."

He took her hand and stood up also; "Believe me, I will; I'm already on the same page." The deep brown eyes held the gaze of the shimmering emerald eyes.

The stars shown like blazing diamonds against the black velvet sky. Kim's arms were tight around Ron's waist, her head resting on his shoulder; when his scooter hit a dip in the road, their helmets would clunk together; he hardly noticed; his heart was too full.

He must remember to thank Rich and Daphne in the morning; he hoped that they weren't too busy tonight with some mission in Borneo, or some remote spot.

The End


	2. Chapter 2

I'm knocked for a loop.

I posted this story on my DeviantART site (wrybread) and didn't get a nibble.

But you good folks have blown me out of the water with your praise.

I wasn't planning a chpt 2, but I found the perfect inspiration: another deviation by Ivymae; sooo...

spectre666: let me explain: Richard and Daphne Harte are two characters inspired by Richard Sirois at Richard's Page of Fanatism. Richard and Helen Lionheart (based on Richard and Helen Sirois) are a brother-and-sister mission-ing team, Team Heart; Rich is also an art exchange student at Middleton High School. They hook up with Team Possible, both as friends and as allies. Ron and Rich become the best of friends. Kim and Rich share some romance.

JPMod: I know _your _work; I am honored to have caught the notice of what I consider one of the premiere K.P. fanfic-ers

surforst: all the interaction between Team Possible and Rich takes place after StD. Rich's initial feelings are platonic and chivalrous, but--well, that's another story

& thank you, campy & kpandron (it took a couple days to realise that meant "kp and ron")

Kim, Ron, Wade, and Bonnie belong to Disney; Rich and Daphne are based on Richard Sirois's art work at Richard's Page of Fanatism; the plot is based on Furry by ivymae457 at DeviantART, found in her Gallery, and "furry sketch" by ivymae, found in her Scraps.

Maybe I've overwritten this story; I went far beyond the story of ivymae's picture and explored aspects of the Kim / Ron action--& aspects of the Kim / Rich and Ron / Rich action--and of course I introduced a new character--Wade Load's mother (this is your fault, campy). It's all part of the Lionheart saga; let my readers judge

Zipporahvulcan, you are correct; I have added the quotation marks

Ramonet Blade and momike, thank you for the reviews; argh, the sequel bunny (to borrow a phrase from somewhere on ffdotnet) has made this story a dry well for now; it's a fait accompli.

_**chpt 2**_

The Kimmunicator was beeping. Kim came out from under the bed covers and mumbled, "What's the sitch, Wade?"

"Guys, I'm sorry; I know Rich told me to call Daphne and him instead of you two, but they're not back yet from last night's mission."

Kim sat up in bed. "Uh, Wade--Ron isn't here--just me."--not that she didn't think about it--and dream, and hope--someday.

"Ron is on the line, K.P." Ron's voice mumbled tiredly over the speaker; "I'm on the Ronunicator; Wade called us both."

Kim blushed in the darkness; OMG, so the misunderstanding; so the embarrassment. She giggled nervously; "This is awkward, you two."

"No big, K.P. It's just us; you're among friends;" the sound of a big yawn; "Right, Wade?"

"Three alarm fire in Lowerton, guys," said Wade, dryly; "The building is going up in flames."

"Right; at your house in five or ten, K.P.; give me the address, Wade."

Ron's scooter pulled up to the Possible house in seven minutes; Kim was waiting outside. They kissed; he handed her the spare helmet; she it put, threw her leg over the back of the scooter, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her hands moved under his jacket, under his shirt. "Damn, girl," he exclaimed, "I should razzberry you more often!"

"Keep my hands warm, boy," she purred, "and you can do what you want with me."

Booooooooooyaaaaaaaaaah.

It was hard to tell which turned faster, Ron's head or the wheels of the scooter.

Ron engaged the rocket drive and they arrived to the address of the fire in thirty minutes; it was an abandoned warehouse; the fire essentially was under control; all that was needed was some crowd control. The gawkers attracted by the fire gladly conversed with the world-famous heroes of the Little Diablo affair.

By sunrise they got the all-clear. Kim and Ron signed autographs and posed for pictures with the firefighters and finally pried themselves away.

Kim pulled Ron's arm and whispered, "Feed me;" and her wish was his command

"I know just the place." It was a little breakfast nook on a quiet street.

French toast, hast browns, pancakes, all homemade; fresh-squeezed orange juice; they gobbled hungrily. "Ron, it's delicious!" Kim exclaimed between bites. Leave it to the Buena Nacho assistant manager to know where to find a good meal.

Kim was suddenly aware that Ron had stopped eating; he was simply resting his elbows on the table, gazing at her; "Aren't you going to finish your food?" this was definitely out of character for him.

"I'm feasting my eyes; this has been the most incredible twelve hours; just being able to spend time with you last evening, going on a mission in the dead of night, watching the sun rise with you, sharing breakfast with you--I could spend the rest of my life this way."

Kim gulped her mouthful of food; she could feel her cheeks blushing; her hand reached across the table and sought his hand. "You astonish me," she said quietly. "Where have you been hiding this side of you? How could I have ever fallen for Erik Drake?"

"I've watched how you trust me to make more of the decisions for the team; you let me talk you into taking on Daphne and Rich; I've watched how you trust me with your heart. You fill me with poetry, Kimberly Ann Possible; I have feelings inside that I can't find words to express--Rich is better than me at this--I asked him for some ideas--he wrote down something from 'Romeo and Juliet'--let's see." Ron took a slip of paper out of his pocket and tried to read: "Uhh, 'She doth teach the torches to burn bright--Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear--"

Kim's other hand sought Ron's other hand. "Ron Stoppable--you don't need Richard Harte to tell you how to compliment me; your own words are just fine. C'mon, let's pay the bill; I want to go somewhere."

Once on the scooter, she asked, "You know where that little park is near the town square?" He nodded. "Let's go there."

She led him by the hand to the crest of a hill. No one else was vislble in the park at that hour of the morning. "Put your arms around me," she said; he did, and she put hers around him.

"Ron Stoppable, I want you to remember what I told you on Prom night: you've won my heart." She looked up at him, and he felt something big coming. "I want to tell you something else--the biggest thing that's ever happened to me--I've thought a lot about it, because you fill me with poetry, too." She sighed. "I love you--and I mean that in every way I can--a friend, a steady, a mate." Ron was looking stunned. "There's more; tell me you want me, and I'm yours--now, today."

Boo-yah

Oy Vay

For a moment he looked like the old Ron: panic-stricken and jumpy; but he became thoughtful.

"Kimberly Ann Possible--Kim--K.P.--uhh--; I love you, too...I kind of thought I would be the first to say it; I figured I would plan this big romantic evening with dinner and flowers. I've even thought about our first time together--wow--and when I think about it, I think about everything else that goes with it, like marriage, children, our first house--I think about my Jewish heritage--what that means for us--how important is it to me?--I can't believe I'm about to say this--I want our first time together to be so right--I want it to be the first of an entire lifetime of together's--am I making sense?"

Kim was now stunned; the one thing he could have said that would make her even more happy than if he simply said "yes". He was looking out for her as well as himself; he was thinking of them, their whole lives together; he was usurping her usual role, being the planner, thinking about the big picture; again she was mystified; where had this new Ron been hiding all their lives? Or had he been there all along, waiting for her eyes to be opened? She spoke with some difficulty: "Ronald Adrian Stoppable; in a minute I'm going to start bawling; you make me feel so safe and so loved. I can so trust you with my heart and life." It was almost like a sign that the heavens approved of their love, that they were intended to be together.

She embraced his neck with such force and planted such a kiss on his lips that he felt the earth tilt under his feet.

For the rest of the day they played hookey.

They stopped at Mother Load's street mission in Lowerton. Ophelia Mahalia Load was an ordained minister, gospel preacher, choir director, community activist, and soup kitchen founder. With Rev. Leo Harte she had established a number of community centers and thrift stores around the Tri-City area. She dearly loved all her children, none more than her gifted agoraphobic son Wade; and everyone she ever met still young enough to be alive became her child--but that is another story. She brightened like a beacon when she saw her son's friends; "Kimberly Ann! Ronald Adrian! Y'all come here; give your mama some love!" She smothered them both in her ample embrace. "Now tell me what you're doing here in Lowerton." They mentioned the warehouse fire. "Why, bless your hearts; out doing good, as usual. Children, you don't know what hope you give to an old workhorse like me, to see young people who will fight the good fight when I'm gone--now where are my other two children, Daphne and Richard?"

"Well--they're on their own mission--we haven't heard from them since yesterday," explained Ron.

A twinkle came to Mother Load's eye; "Why, let me guess: they gave you two the night off, so you could be alone. That Richard; he's been hoping for years that you two would find each other." Kim had assumed that it was her and Ron's good luck, or angels, or whatever, that finally guided them together; she began to envision a giant conspiracy of family and friends that were rooting for them both, and had subtly--or not so subtly--arraigned circumstances.

"Mother Load, could we help serve lunch today?" Kim asked. Ophelia Load clucked her tongue; that girl needed lunch; she was as skinny as a rail; but of course they could help serve.

As they took their leave she caught them in another loving embrace: "Oh, babies, bless your hearts; come again soon!"

They gradually made their way back to Middleton and their special spot in the park. They parked the scooter and dismounted; "Here we are, babe; now, will you tell me why we're visiting the Middleton Park after we were at the Lowerton Park this morning?"

Kim's pout appeared; "Ron! I thought you liked being with me."

His conscience struck him hard; "K.P.; I didn't mean it that way; I just thought--well, we left your place at three o'clock this morning--I thought you might want to get home."

Her pout became more pronounced and she turned away; "Are you that eager to get rid of me?" He could hear the hurt in her voice.

"Kim! Of course I'm eager--I mean, to be with you, not to take you home--I mean, I want to take you home sometime!'' She walked slowly away with bowed head. "K.P.--for God's sake--I feel like scum--whatever it is, I apologize!"

She whirled around, grinning mischievously. "Good!" She leapt full upon him, grabbing him in both arms, tackling him. "Psych!" she yelled triumphantly.

"Damn--you scared me, girl! I thought I did something awful--I don't know what--and just pissed you off!" He looked up, both relieved and irritated, as she lay upon him.

She grinned more. "I figured you deserve this for that razzberry you gave me last night; I was all set to give you a hug and kiss and you blew your spit in my navel."

And he himself began to grin, and even chuckle. "That was a good time; you're right, I deserve to have my ass kicked--pardon my language--for that trick."

She laid her head on his chest. "Ron, this has been the most incredible day; and we didn't do anything big; we just did what we always do--help people." She raised her head and gazed into his eyes; "And we both said the big thing, didn't we? We really love each other."

Ron propped himself up on his elbow. "Is it really only a month ago that you came up to the treehouse? K.P, what if--I dunno--we get tired of each other? It feels like a long time until we're done with college."

Kim ruffled his hair and kissed him; "I have faith in us; I have faith in you, because you were there all along; I have faith in me, because I'm so stubborn; I'm not caught in the food chain any more; you deserve me and I deserve you; I have faith in our friends and families because they believe in us: your dad, my mom, Brick, Felix, Monique, Rich, Daphne, Wade, Mom Load--we're not in this alone." She rolled him over face down on the grass. "Come on, hero, we gotta lighten up. It's getting too serious; just relax;" and she proceeded to give him such a backrub that he felt like a limp noodle.

He rolled onto his back and gazed into her eyes; she pulled up his shirt and exposed his waist. "Are you gonna razzberry me?"

"If I did, you would so deserve it; you just have to trust me." She traced lightly on his bare waist with her forefinger.

A throaty chuckle escaped his lips: "That tickles, K.P."

"I like your tummy."

"Do you?"

She nodded: "Mmhmm; it's furry and sexy."

"What are you writing?"

"Oh, your name--my name--'I love you'--stuff like that." Her hair half veiled her face, obscuring her sultry gaze.

They heard a familiar voice, laden with scorn: "Kimmie and Ronnie--so this is where you spend your day--and we had to manage without you at cheerleading practice..." Bonnie Rockwaller's voice trailed off, her jaw hung down, and her eyes bulged: "Ewww!" She stuck her forefinger in her mouth: "Aaackpth!"

She went through an elaborate pantomime: "Gross! Puke! Gag! Ron Stoppable is not sexy! Kim that is totally sick! Eww!"

She covered her eyes and shook her head. "Ew ew ew--bad mental picture--yuck--eww!"

She saw Daphne and Rich approaching in their mission suits. "Look; it's the Jesus Freaks! Hey, Rich, got the hormones for belly hair? Does Daphne get off on tickling your tummy?"

"I wouldn't know," Daphne said flatly; "Does Brick like to rub your belly hair?"

"Up yours, bitch!" Bonnie shot a venomous glance, thrust her middle finger upward, and stomped away furiously.

Rich nudged Daphne: "Good comeback, sis."

"That was very offensive of me; I should apologize to Bonnie--sometime."

"She's going to be hell to live with for the next week," Kim called out.

"Sorry, Kim," Daphne called back.

"No big, Daphne; I didn't know you had it in you," she said admiringly; "it was so worth it."

Brother and sister approached boyfriend and girlfriend. Ron pulled his shirt down and started to stand up.

Rich held up his hand: "As you were, you two; we're just here to chase Bonnie away; I have a pocket full of garlic."

Rich knelt beside the couple; "Hey, Bro."

Ron high-fived Rich and gripped his hand; "Busy night, Bro?"

"Busy night; you, too?"

"Yeah; Kim and I took an R and R day. We won't bother you any more."

"Buena Nacho, usual time."

"Sounds good; we'll trade stories."

"Rich--!" said Kim abruptly.

"Kismet?" It was Rich's nickname for Kim, as surely as "K.P." was Ron's nickname for her, and only Team Possible knew the story.

"Thank you both for giving Ron and I last night off," she said warmly.

Rich merely smiled; only Daphne knew what was in his heart for Kim; chivalrous adoration was too weak a term.

"Later, you two."

"Later."

When they were away, Daphne mentioned uneasily, "Ricky, I'm concerned." Rich would tolerate his childhood name only from his sister. "You remember when we first joined Team Possible, Kim and I would quarrel about her attire, the whole crop top thing; I came to see it your way; I laugh at it now; it's so unimportant."

"Okay--."

"Tell me I'm being small-minded when I say that I'm concerned if Kim and Ron are sleeping together."

Rich thought a moment. "You are not small-minded; you're concerned about how we look. We have a strong Christian faith and people know it. The problem is we're caught in the middle; other Christians will look at us as compromising on morality for the reason you mentioned, and they are going to be less tolerant than you and I. Other people are going to look at our beliefs about those hot button issues, like gay marriage and abortion on demand; we'll be called biased and gay-bashers, and they won't care that we feel the same way they do about world hunger, conserving natural resources, freedom of the press, alternate fuel sources, and all that. Will Kim and Ron wait until marriage? If I read Ron right, probably. Could I be wrong? Yes, I could. Will that matter when we face someone like Dr. Dementor or Monkey Fist? No. Do they know how we feel about marriage? Unless they live on the moon, yes. Whatever happens, we're all Team; on missions and in battle, we have their backs, and they have our backs. Remembering the vow we made at Mom's grave, defending the innocent, battling evil, keeping our promise to our friends; that's our true Christian duty.."

Daphne nodded; spoken like the true knight in shining armor that he was. She put her arm through his as they walked; "Love you, brother."

"Love you, too, sis; are you hungry?" She nodded again. "Let's head for Buena Nacho."


	3. Chapter 3

It came to me in a vision; part 3 of the crop top caper; based on yet another drawing by Ivymae: the Kim Doll WIP over at Dev Art

The continuing adventures of Kim, Ron, and Kim's attire, based on drawings by Ivymae  
Kim and Ron belong to Disney.  
Richard and Daphne Harte are based on Richard and Helen Lionheart, created by Lionheartcartoon  
Ron's parents' first names are mine  
Cyndi Larsen is mine--creatively

Ron pulled up to the house, parked the scooter, and quietly opened the front door. The small lamp was on in the front hall. It was just past midnight; of course the folks would already be in bed.

What a day--what a couple of days! His Team Possible teammates had given Kim and him a night off. Kim had come over for a "study date"--hah! After being on his best behavior, he had dared a great deed; to blow a zerbet on his girlfriend's bare midriff; and she didn't break a book over his head! In fact, it opened doors, as each confided their unrevealed hopes and dreams of life with the other.

The magic of being together--whether on a mission--or a date--only seemed to intensify.

They had met at Bueno Nacho with Team Harte and traded stories. What a way to spend an evening; almost as good to be alone with K.P. was to be with his other best friend, Rich; they were "Bro's", fellow warriors and fellow pranksters. Kim and Daphne were even past their mutual dislike now; Daphne now tolerated Kim's crop top wardrobe, and Kim now tolerated tolerated Daphne's religious standards

After a lifetime in the desert of feeling useless and half-assed, he had come to an oasis of love and friendship. Life was good.

When he got to his room, a lamp was suddenly switched on; he looked around. Aha, it was Rufus. The little pink animal stood indignantly, tapping his toe, arms folded, and face fuming. Then he pointed to the alarm clock. He waved his arms wildly and chattered about being left home alone all day while Ron was out all night with friends.

Ron smiled apologetically and tried to explain. "Dude, Wade called at three in the morning; I figured at least one of us should get some sleep. Besides, K.P. and I needed some time alone."

Rufus only got louder; since when had they decided that missions were just a twosome affair? Speaking of twosome, who was it that had been there for Ron when Kim was crushing on Josh Mankey?

Ron knew he was tired when he realized he couldn't tell if Rufus sounded more like Donald Duck or Alvin the Chipmunk. He offered his hand. "Dude, let's high-five and make up."

Rufus only said, "Humph!" He strode back to his little bed with his nose in the air.

Kim glided through the night sky wearing her jetpack and mission suit, just above the rooftops. There was the Stoppable house; Ron's room light was on through the window; didn't he ever sleep? Ahh, the light finally went out. She cut power to the thrusters and glided the last few yards; she gave a short burst on the braking jets and settled lightly on the roof. It was just like Buzz Lightyear, falling with style. The wings and helmet retracted into the backpack and she slung it off. Fastening the one of the cable to the peak of the roof and the other to her utility belt, she rappelled off the roof and lowered herself down to Ron's window. The window was open; thank goodness, it was a warm night; she slid open the screen and slipped in.

She glanced around the room; Ron and Rufus were asleep; clothes were on the floor; how typical, she thought with tenderness. She tiptoed across the room; avoid the squeaky spot; check the closet, check the dresser. Again, how typical; Ron was down to his last clean shirt; and she knew that tomorrow was laundry day.

Time to put Operation Retaliation into effect. If this worked, she would so get back at him for razzberrying her belly the other night. Oops; she almost giggled out loud. Rufus sleepily poked his head up; of course, naked mole rats have much better hearing than humans.

Kim waved nervously at Rufus and put her finger to her lips; please be quiet. Rufus only shook his head grumpily and curled up. These humans were incomprehensible; it was all his fault, unfortunately; he had pushed them into each other's arms at the last dance of the Junior Prom, and nature had taken it's course. Well, live and learn.

She unbuckled her belt and let her cargo pants drop; she pulled off her croptop over her head Ron stirred--she froze, ready to grab her clothes and leap out the window; he resumed his snores and she sighed in relief. She went to the closet and took his last lonely clean shirt off the hanger; the brown pullover; how many of these did he own? She held the shirt to her face, inhaled deeply, and sighed; Rachel Stoppable's laundry soap, but Ron's aftershave, his deodorant, his smell. She caressed her cheek with the shirt; a thousand washings couldn't remove his smell. She put her arms through the sleeves and pulled the shirt on over her head.

Kim exited the closet and looked lovingly at Ron; her gentle sleeper; time for the next part of the plan. She put her hand to the blanket--and hesitated for a moment.

Was it only yesterday? In Lowerton Park they had said The Big Words: I Love You. She had offered him the most precious thing she could, her very self. "I love you--and I mean that in every way I can--a friend, a steady, a mate...tell me you want me, and I'm yours--now, today." And it had floored him "I can so trust you with my heart and life," she had told him.

He had taken her offer and made his counter-offer. "I've even thought about our first time together--wow--and when I think about it, I think about everything else that goes with it, like marriage, children, our first house...I want our first time together to be so right--I want it to be the first of an entire lifetime of together's." And it had floored her.

She could offer herself again, here and now. She was sure she could make it happen; she could slip under the covers and gently awaken him. Their bodies could speak in a surer language than words. She could be gone before sunrise; or they could greet the sun together, in sweet intimacy, defying the world, as the morning light filtered in through that very window.

What was stopping her? It was what else Ron had said. "I think about my Jewish heritage--what that means for us--how important is it to me?--I can't believe I'm about to say this--I want our first time together to be so right--"

Images paraded through her head: the proposal, the screams of joy, the preparations, the bridal shower, the ceremony in church--or synagogue--Mom's misty eyes, being given away by Daddy, the I Do's, the rice, and the moment--finally, at last, alone--the fairy tale moment, face to face. She sighed--oh, Ron, you sweet old-fashioned goof--even asleep you keep me on the straight and narrow.

She clambered onto the bed and leaned over him; he was bare-armed--and bare-chested--hmm. Her thoughts flew; she knew him to be a pajama man; what _was_ under the covers?

Ron was in several dreams. Kim and he were before the minister--or was it the rabbi? She was a vision in her wedding dress and veil. The blessed words were spoken: "I now pronounce you husband and wife." He lifted the veil and drew near to those puppy pout lips. The Kim and he were in a honeymoon suite, as they kissed and embraced hungrily, as she slipped off his tux jacket and tie, and as he slipped off her veil and unzipped her gown. Then they were on a sun-drenched beach of white sand, with wafting palms and rolling surf; Kim was in a white--or black--or red--bikini--who cared what color? He lay on the blanket and looked up with absolute wonder at this perfect work of nature. She was smiling teasingly as she leaned over to kiss him.

How glad he was to be married now; how bad it was during the torture of his single days; he had not anticipated when they started dating what that first summer would be like, the first time he had seen her in a bikini--OMG--jaw-dropping, tongue-hanging-out, heart-pounding--and it was all for him--no Josh Mankey, no Dave Sawyer--waitaminute--_WAS_ he married? Hey, no big--just a dream.

"Oh, K.P.--bring it on." Oh, those moist sweeeeet lips. Oh, the feel of her in his arms. He hardly noticed her weight on his chest--boy, this dream was awfully realistic.

His eyes popped open like a jack-in-the-box. Moonlight, Kim, his bedroom, Kim, wearing his shirt, the teasing smile, the dancing eyes, the moonlight on her hair--

He banged his head on the head of the bed. He sat up and nearly hit her head on his. He backed away and banged himself on the head of the bed again. He held the blanket up to his chin. _"K.P.! What're you doin' here?"_

She only smiled teasingly and batted her eyes.

He checked under the covers--thank God, at least he had his boxers on. He pleaded with her. "Come on, K.P.! Can I have my shirt back, now? Please? Hello? Feeling kinda naked here."

Kim silently climbed off the foot of his bed and slowly backed away. She winked, blew him a kiss, backflipped, and smoothly dove through the open window, hardly rustling the curtains. Hie eyes bulged; was she wearing panties under his shirt?

Ron leapt from his bed, hit the squeaky spot in the floor (Damn! Please, God, let Mom and Dad sleep through this!), and ran to the window. He leaned out and peered into the sky; all he saw of her was the silhouette against the moonlight, Kim and the jetpack, wings extended, on silent running; all he heard was a gentle giggle that settled like faint music on his ears.

He was excited and pleased, but thoroughly puzzled; what was this late night visit all about? He withdrew his head back into his room and sighed; oh, Kim...my K.P...well, maybe he deserved the scare for razzberrying her a couple nights ago--

Ron stared at her clothes on the floor--Holy Crap! He raced to the closet and found empty hangers--Double Holy Crap! He had been royally punked!

He saw her plan in an instant: tomorrow was wash day; Rachel Stoppable ran it like a well oiled machine; she knew her son's wardrobe like Abe knew the figures he worked with; when his last clean shirt was being worn, the next batch was being laundered.

Ron would catch hell for having no clean shirts; but that wasn't the worst. Mom Stoppable knew the contents of her son's room and floor _better_ than her husband knew the ledger sheet. There was no place to hide Kim's clothes. His mother would see it on the floor, or notice the bulge under the bedsheet or the book bag, or go unerringly to the drawer, like radar, like a bloodhound; she would pick up the short crop top with thumb and forefinger--_"Ronnie--is this your mission suit--or someone else's--and what's it doing in your room?"_

Ron groaned; his ass was in the frying pan. Dad Dr. P. loomed a mile high in his mind's eye, sending Ron to the Black Hole Deep, the Seventh Circle of Hell--and for his Kimmie-Cub, Daddy's Little Girl, all would be forgiven and forgotten; she would smell like a rose. There was no hiding Kim's clothes--or smuggling them out past Mom's eagle eye.

Ron sat morosely on the foot of his bed. "Yeah, Rufus, she punked me good." In spite of it, he shook his head and smiled admiringly; Kim had executed a master stroke; it was check and checkmate. What to do next? And as he sat in the dark, a grin slowly came to his face. Oh, this was so good! "Payback is gonna be sweet, K.P."

He flopped back on his pillow with his arms behind his head; he could hardly wait until the morning. "Yeah, Rufus, it's all gonna be good; the Ron-ster's got his head in the game." Rufus rolled his eyes upward; enough already; please let the loyal mascot get his sleep.

Morning came, and Ron charged down the stairs, wearing his Maddog jacket and cargo pants.

"Ronnie, aren't you having breakfast?"

"Gotta meet Kim before school, Mom!"

"Ronnie, you're wearing your jacket--won't that be too hot on a warm day like this?"

"School spirit, Mom--the Mascot has to look the part!"

"Ronnie, you're growing like a weed--those pants barely reach your ankles!"

"I know, Mom--you feed me too well."

"Don't forget, I do the wash today; are all your dirty clothes in the hamper?"

"About that, Mom--I misplaced my last clean pullover--maybe on a mission or something--gotta wear a mission shirt to school."

He gave her a peck on the cheek as he breezed past, and his father a peck on the head. "Love you both--bye."

"Do well, son," said Abe through his morning paper as he sat at the table with his coffee; I'm proud of that boy--do I show it enough?

Rachel sighed. Does Kim know what a lucky girl she is? "Our boy--he's almost grown." Abe nodded and grasped his wife's hand.

Ron could hardly keep his scooter under the speed limit; he felt like jumping off the saddle; oh, Kim Possible, today Ron Stoppable stops you; today he becomes All That.

He parked his scooter and entered the school. There she was, waiting by her locker, with Tara, Bonnie, in their cheerleading outfits, and Brick. He caught her eye, and saw the smirk on her face.

Kim saw the spring in his step, the twinkle in his eye; something was up; well, play along and see what happens.

"Well, Mr. Stoppable, how _did_ you explain to your mother your last clean shirt gone, and my clothes on the floor of your bedroom?"

All the others stared at each other with "huh?" expressions on their faces.

"K.P.--what're you talkin' about?"

Kim eyed him suspiciously. "Ron--what _are_ you wearing under that jacket?"

Ron's grin practically split his face; without speaking a word, he whipped open his Maddog jacket, flashing them, and closed it again. They all stared.

Tara, the sweet, the shy, the innocent, turned five shades of scarlet and ran down the hall.

Bonnie covered her eyes and turned away. "OH MY GOD, HE DID IT AGAIN--I'M GONNA GO BLIND!" She ran down the hall, bellowing. "UGH! SICK AND WRONG! BELLY HAIR! ACH! GROSS ME OUT!"

Brick edged cautiously away, glancing nervously over his shoulder as he went. "Dude--I think you have issues you need to deal with."

Kim covered her mouth with both hands and screamed with laughter. For five minutes she was doubled over. Every time she looked up, he opened his jacket slightly again, and she had to continue laughing

Every secret fear that she and Ron would break up, or get bored with each other, or that he wouldn't commit, or whatever, utterly died away in that moment. For under his Maddog jacket he was wearing her low rise cargo pants and midriff-baring crop top; the pants chosen for her slender waist and hips hardly sufficed to fit on him; even though the pants were belted, the zipper gapped open, revealing his brightly colored boxer shorts.

Steve Barkin heard the commotion up the hall and looked up from his clipboard. Tara walked briskly past on his left, looking like a deer in the headlights. Bonnie stomped disgustedly past on his right. On the other side again, Brick walked furtively by, his eyes downcast, his hands in his pockets. "Mr. Barkin, you don't want to know," he whispered. Steve Barkin peered up the hall, squinting. He frowned. "Stoppable and Possible," he muttered; "I might have guessed; I don't want to know about it." He turned on his heel, stared at his clipboard, and walked briskly in the other direction.

Kim's face was as red as her hair. She wiped the tears of laughter from her cheeks and fanned herself with her hand. "Enough," she said breathlessly. "Please stop; I can't stand it; I'm gonna faint in a minute--or pee my pants--or something." She hugged Ron around the waist. "You're hopeless, and I love you."

He put his arms around her shoulders. "I know; I love you, too."

She rested her chin on his chest and looked into his eyes. "Please tell me you brought something else to wear."

He shrugged and shook his head. "Nope; this is it."

She stifled a laugh. "Promise me you won't go around all day with my crop top under your jacket; I won't be able to do a thing if I have that mental picture in my head."

He shrugged, "Okay," and started to take off his jacket.

"NO!" More heads turned at her panicked outburst; "Go somewhere unobserved, for heaven's sake--although," she snuggled close again, "The idea of you bare-chested will kill my concentration just as bad."

"Will I see you between class, or at lunch?"

She moaned. "I'm busy all day long: Student Council meets during lunch and there's cheerleading practice after school; will you be okay?"

"I'll hang with Rich."

At lunch Ron and Rich strolled the halls.

"I love her, Bro--that's all there is to it; I look into the future and all I see is life with her."

"You're a changed man since you two started dated; it should have happened a couple grades ago."

"Nah; I had some growing to do--but I'm glad I have you to share it with--think you're up for a best man gig?"

"Wow--how soon?"

"Don't worry--it's a few years away."

Rich slapped Ron's shoulder. "I'm happy for you, Bro."

"Rich--have you ever been in love?"

"I thought so once--but it didn't last."

"Yeah, I remember you telling me; back when you were at Upperton High, you were dating Cyndi Larsen."

"Captain of the Varsity Cheerleaders--Student Council President--a zillion committees and activities--Kim's counterpart. I was just a freshman, and she was a junior--I was too young--or too intense--or whatever. Anyhow, what her and I had doesn't begin to compare with what you and Kim have--friends since Daycare, super-hero teammates."

"I know you, Bro; you've got the save-the-world-mission thing as strong as Kim and I--maybe stronger; you practically live in that chivalry daydream--can I share something? Kim and I both think you deserve Someone Special."

Pain flashed across Rich's face; he _did_ miss Cyndi--or someone. He looked wistfully at Ron; to be like those two, to have a Lady to dedicate his life to; it was his fondest dream, as intense as the wish to become a Rescuer, a Defender--a True Knight. He shrugged. "We'll see." They did their handshake, clasping wrists and bumping fists.

After cheerleading practice, Ron again approached Kim, Tara, Bonnie, and Brick. Tara meekly waved and hurried away. Bonnie glared furiously at Ron. Brick said "Later, you two," quietly and took Bonnie by the hand. Kim and Ron were alone.

He opened his jacket and showed her a simple white t-shirt. "I borrowed this from somebody in gym class."

"Much better;" she took his hand; "Now, walk me to my locker; I have to get my books."

At her locker he hugged her around her waist. "Y'know what, I love your tummy, too."

"You do?"

"Yeah; it's smooth, not furry."

She laughed. "I'm glad of that."

He lightly traced his finger on her bare midriff, and she flinched. "Are you gonna tickle me?"

He assured her. "No, Babe, no jokes for a while; I'm just writing stuff."

"Like what?"

"Oh, 'I love you', 'Mrs. Stoppable', stuff like that..."

Kim froze, and turned to face Ron; she had a strange look in her eyes.

"K.P?"

She leapt up and grabbed his neck; their lips locked. Ron staggered and crashed into the lockers on the other side of the hall. He sank to his knees, still being held by Kim.

"Ronald Adrian Stoppable!" she gasped; "How do you do it? Just when I feel like I can handle it, you say something that so makes me want to jump your bones!"

Ron only stared in amazement--and love.

Her eyes glistened. "This waiting 'til our wedding night is driving me crazy--it better be worth it."

He swallowed and returned her intent gaze. "I promise--I'll make it worth it."

As they struggled to their feet, she snuggled in his arms again. "I know you will. I love it how you respect me; I just feel like I'm gonna lose it sometimes."

"Trust me, K.P., I feel the same."

The school was deserted. They walked to his scooter in silence, arms around each other. Kim giggled. "Ron--we've had a lot of fun with this crop-top thing--you get me, I get you back, you get me back--has it run its course?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno, Babe; you remember the fuss your Little Black Dress caused?"

"God--don't remind me!"

He winked. "I guess we'll see."

They put on their helmets and climbed on the scooter. Kim held his waist. "Love ya, Ron."

"Love ya, K.P." And off they rode.


End file.
